Living the good life one patch of dirt at a time.

I do a lot of filtering during sermons these days, but one Sunday morning this winter, maybe even Easter, I heard the words “A seed must first die.” A pretty good point, somewhat obvious, but I hadn’t thought of it before.

Our peas — probably seeds sprouting on the windowsill when I first heard that phrase — have long since died but I liked the variety we grew this year, so I rummaged through the browned vines for some hidden pods to save for next year. I once aspired to save all kinds of seeds and catalogued them in envelopes. I’ve simplified in recent years — I only save peas and beans because they have nice big seeds that come in their own container.

Musing about new life coming from this heatwave we’re currently in the middle of; fragile green sprouts that would roast in under an hour in today’s sun; and the short number of summers I have to plant and cultivate a garden, how next year I will do a better job. Or perhaps it was expressed more succinctly in Mad Max: Fury Road:

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Welcome to the Almanac

Caught between wanting to have a farm in the middle of nowhere and loving the city, we consider ourselves the luckiest people on earth to get to do both. Alicia says it best: “We like to pretend we’re farmers.” This site chronicles our adventures in gardening, canning, chickens, and all things agrarian, all with a view of downtown Seattle from the shade of the plum tree in our front yard.